Bokor
by NElaineR
Summary: Lie to Me meets the X-Files. Please let me know what you think!  Do not own Lie to Me, of course.
1. Chapter 1

His face was completely blank, almost a death mask in its lack of emotion. But his eyes were filled with horror and warning. He took a shuffling step forward.

Gillian frowned, confused by his mixed signals. "Cal? Are you alright?"

She took an involuntary step backward, her instincts kicking in, but it was too late. He was on her in an instant, hands around her throat. Squeezing.

Pulling at his wrists, she gasped for air. "Please", she managed to croak, her eyes wide and terrified. She left narrow furrows on his forearms with her nails but he did not loosen his grip. His hands were like iron. Dark spots began to dance at the edge of her vision.

(BREAK)

Gillian was beginning to lose consciousness. He was killing her and he couldn't stop himself. Cal screamed inwardly, trying to wake himself up. This had to be a nightmare. She began to slump, almost taking him with her. _WAKE UP! GOD DAMNIT! WAKE UP!  
><em> A flood of relief coursed through him when he felt a powerful arm curl around his neck, cutting off his oxygen and allowing Gillian to stumble back gasping and coughing. Cal was out before he hit the floor.

**36 hours earlier**

"Cal, I'd like you to meet Detective Louie Devereux."

He blinked at the man mountain before him and offered a hand. "How d'ya do?"

Devereux smiled, dwarfing Cal's hand in his own. White teeth contrasted with dark skin in a very likable face. "It is indeed a pleasure Dr. Lightman. I've followed your work for years. Fascinating."

"Thanks."

"Mr. Devereux has a unique situation that he'd like our help with." Gillian's eyes held an odd light as she watched him.

Cal masked his puzzlement and waved the gentleman to a chair. "Please have a seat. What can we do for you?"

Devereux took a seat, leaned back and steepled his fingers. "We have, uh, an unusual crime that we may need a hand with. You see, a man was murdered in a locked bedroom while his 17-year-old daughter watched TV in the next room."

"_Locked _bedroom?"

The big man nodded.

"What was the cause of death?"

"Snake venom."

Cal's forehead knotted in a frown as he looked over at Foster. She just stared back at him, her face carefully neutral.

"Pardon? You said snake venom?"

"Yes, I did."

"Please continue." He reset his expression and waited.

"Apparently, he'd been bitten dozens of times. We're still waiting for the toxicology report to determine what kind."

"You don't know what kind of snake?"

Devereux shook his head. "There were no animals in the room anywhere. Like I said, the door was locked but so were the windows."

Cal digested this, feeling a little out of his element. "What can we do to help?"

"It's the daughter. She has been, shall we say, less than forthcoming with information."

"How so?"

"She only tells us that it was Marie Laveau's wish."

Cal stared at the other man. "Hold on a minute. Wasn't she…?"

Once again, Devereux nodded, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Yes, the same voodoo priestess who died in the 19th century."

(BREAK)

Devereux handed Cal his card. "Please let me know if you and Dr. Foster are willing to consult with the NOPD on this case. Trust me, I do realize how this sounds but we really need to find out what's going on with this girl." He shook hands with both of them again, thanked them for their time and proceeded to let himself out. The door to Cal's office closed softly behind him.

Gillian gave him a little smile. "I told you it was a unique case."

"Makes me think that someone is definitely off their nut."

"Cal." She gave him a look of reproach.

"Sorry luv." He started to pace about his office, not unlike a caged tiger. " But seriously? Some long dead witch puts some kind of hex on this girl's father?"

"Priestess Cal."

He dismissed her with a wave. "Whatever." He rocked back on his heels, staring at her, a familiar gleam in his eye.

Gillian gave a little sigh, knowing that look. "You're intrigued, aren't you?"

A slow smile overtook his face. He looked like a little boy on Christmas morning. "Absolutely. You up for some Creole food?"

(BREAK)

"What are you afraid of darlin'?" Cal's voice was low and gentle as he watched the teenager's face for any signs.

"I prayed to the Priestess for help."

He nodded. "What kind of help?"

She looked down but he caught the shame lurking in her eyes. His brow furrowed. "Was your father…hurting you?"

"I'll take that as a _yes_," he muttered when he noted the involuntary swallow.

"Well, he can't hurt you any longer, can he luv?"

The girl looked up, saw the deep sympathy is Dr. Lightman's eyes. Her shoulders started to shake as silent sobs begin to wrack her body.

He gave her a moment to compose herself. Patience wasn't his strong suit, except when it came to kids. Julia LaRue was the same age as his Emily, a fact not lost on him.

She slowly calmed herself and took a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask you." Cal leaned forward, tilting his head. "Other than praying to the Priestess, did you have anything to do with your father's death?"

A look crossed her face that made him pull back slightly. It was dark and terrifying, but so fleeting that he wondered if he had imagined it. Feeling slightly unnerved, he pushed ahead regardless. "Could you answer me luv?"

"I can't." Julia's voice was just a breath.

Cal narrowed his eyes. "Is someone else involved?"

Another swallow.

"Darlin, I can see that you're afraid. Talk to me. I can help you."

At that, she looked directly into his face. Her eyes flickered with the same darkness that he had seen before. "No. You can't."

A tendril of dread coiled itself in Cal's belly. He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so afraid.


	2. Chapter 2

"What _was_ that?" Gillian was watching from the other side of the glass. The girl's dark look startled her. It was almost animalistic in its intensity. However fleeting, she could tell that it had unnerved Cal as well.

She glanced over at Devereux. His expression was blank but a subtle tightening of the jaw told her that he it hadn't been lost on him. It was almost like he was trying _too_ hard to keep a poker face.

"Detective, is there something else going on here?"

He turned to stare down at her, his dark eyes held a light of discomfort and indecision. After a moment, he nodded. "I think you and Dr. Lightman should be aware of….a certain… possibility."

"And what possibility would that be?" Cal entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He caught Gillian's eye, mouth thinning into a line. _What have we gotten ourselves into_?

Devereux blew air out from between his lips, weighing how the subject should be breeched. He wasn't actually sure if there _was_ a good way.

"Well, out with it."

He stared at Lightman, wondering how the scientist would take what he was about to tell them. "Let me say first, that many people in this area are very…. superstitious. Most of the, uh, magic used is completely benign – mostly for good luck or for romance. Cultural speaking, its not much different than rubbing Buddha's belly or carrying a rabbit's foot." He paused, noticing Cal raise one eyebrow while Foster's face remained impassive. They said nothing.

"There is also a flip side to that. When I was a kid, my grandmother would tell me stories about people who would perform black magic – for a price. She would talk about this local man who was feared to be a _Bokor."_

"Bokor?" Lightman frowned.

"Yes." Devereux met his eyes. "Basically a voodoo priest who deals with 'both hands.' In other words, the job, whatever that may be, will be accomplished using either white or black magic. It doesn't matter to them what they may need to tap into or… contact."

The detective waited, letting them digest.

"Please go on." Foster encouraged, using her training to avoid any kind of judgment in her manner.

"When I became an adult, the stories became just stories. I didn't really give them a lot of thought, until I became a cop. The things you see on the street can really make you doubt yourself. Doubt your sanity." He sighed and ran a weary hand over his face. "Let's just say, that there's a lot out there that you would be hard pressed to explain."

"So, you're saying that this little girl may somehow involved with – one of these

Bokors?" Cal clenched his jaw, wondering if he somehow fell down the rabbit hole when he wasn't looking.

"I think it might be a possibility," the big man responded very quietly. "From my understanding, there are _ways_ of controlling another human being. Have you heard of real life 'zombies' by chance?"

Lightman shared a look with his partner and slowly nodded. "People who have been, ah, reputed to have been drugged into a death like state by the poison of some kind of… blowfish, I think. Family buries them but then they're up and about some time later."

"Yes. But there are also poisons that supposedly allow a human body to become a kind of…vessel."

"Vessel for what?"

Devereux was silent for a moment, his gaze shifting away. But not before Cal read fear.

"Evil spirits enslaved by the _Bokor_."

**(BREAK)**

"Julia." Gillian's voice was very gentle. "We know that there's a lot you're not telling us. We really want to help you, but we can't if you don't talk to us."

The girl stared at her hands for a long moment before looking up and nodding toward Cal. "I already told _him_ that you can't help me. There is _nothing_ that you can do!"

Lightman rolled his head to the side, his fingers quietly drumming on the table. "Darlin', we know about the _Bokor_." It was a long shot, but he had to give it a try. Superstition or not, he needed to elicit _some_ kind of reaction.

With a guttural growl, the girl was immediately on her feet and took a swipe at Cal. He felt his head snap back as the blow hit its mark with surprising strength. He grabbed onto the table to keep from falling out of his chair as the guard quickly grabbed the teen's arms. He felt Gillian's hand on his shoulder as they both observed the girl fighting and screaming like an animal. A moment later, she was quiet. Her head lolled forward, mouth open, eyes closed.

"Are you okay?"

Cal turned to Foster, slightly stunned. "Yeah, luv. Can't say I saw that coming. Did you see her eyes?"

Gillian nodded, looking troubled. "She was terrified. Physically, her reaction was all wrong."

Devereux entered the room, paramedics on his heels. They quickly began checking out the girl while the detective approached them. "Looks like you got a bit of a reaction," he remarked.

"Just a bit." Cal rubbing his cheekbone, surprised when his hand came away with blood. She had actually _clawed _him. "What the hell?"

One of the paramedics approached him. "Sir, do you need that tended to?"

Cal waved him away, "Nah, I'm fine."

He felt Gillian's hand gently enfold his and he turned to her, making eye contact. His own feelings were mirrored within hers. Cal gave a tiny smile, just a quick upturn of the corner of his mouth. She answered with a barely perceptible nod.

The detective watched this silent exchange, a growing realization coming to the surface. He wondered if they were even aware. A feeling of dread slowly manifested within his belly as he noted the scratches on the side of Lightman's face. Something niggled in the back of his head. Something important. At that moment he realized that he should have never involved the Lightman Group. He should have never brought them down to New Orleans. It could very well turn out that he'd be the one responsible for both of their deaths.

**(BREAK)**

Cal's eyes snapped open in alarm, his heart hammering. His face glistened with sweat and he couldn't seem to stop trembling. The nightmare had been _so_ intense. He took a shuddering breath and went to run his hand through his hair. That's when he became aware that his arms were uncomfortably twisted behind his back. Implications coursed through his mind as stark terror seized him from within. He blinked rapidly and gradually focused on the big man sitting in the chair several feet away from the bed.

"Dr. Lightman."

"Devereux." His throat ached painfully. "Not a nightmare."

"No it wasn't." He gave Lightman a long look. "I regret the handcuffs, but I needed to be certain that the danger had passed. The situation could have gone…..very badly."

Cal nodded, tasting bile at the back of his throat. That's when he took note of Gillian. She was hovering in his peripheral vision toward the foot of the bed. He turned his head toward her, wincing when she took an involuntary step away. Her eyes held a certain wariness that had never before been directed at him "Gill, I -" He really had no idea what to say to her. What could he say? Shame and horror pulsed through him. "I'm so sorry." His voice was barely a whisper as he felt his stomach start to rebel. He swallowed and shifted his gaze back to the cop. "Listen mate, I think I'm going to throw up. Could you let me out of these or give me a hand?"

The detective stared back at him for what seemed an eternity to Cal. He finally nodded. His instincts told him that the doctor was indeed himself. A physical shock was enough to disrupt it from the girl, so it would seem the case for Lightman. Devereux leaned over and unlocked the cuffs, all the while keeping a close eye on the other man, just as a precaution.

Cal stumbled from the bed, pushed past him and made it to the bathroom just in time.


	3. Chapter 3

Cal sat at the hotel bar, nursing his scotch. Definitely not the best thing to do after praying to the porcelain god less than an hour ago, but he was desperate to quiet his racing mind. Being a scientist, his view was that everything had certain logic behind it. Not to say that everything was black and white. Of course not, but most things had a rational explanation. Until now. He could not, for the life of him, figure out what the hell had happened in his hotel room. They had been talking about the case, trying to deduce what could be going on with the girl when a kind of _veil_ fell down around him. The haze was almost suffocating. He could barely breath. And then his limbs began to move unbidden….

He tossed back the drink feeling it burn down his throat.

_The look on Gillian's face_.

Cal motioned to the bartender for another. His glass was refilled in silence before the man disappeared to wait on other patrons.

He felt the whisper of fabric and a delicate knee brush against his thigh as a young woman sat at the stool next to him. She leaned toward him, smiling, showing a touch of cleavage. "You seem down. Would you like some company?"

Cal swiveled his head toward her with a tight smile. 'Don't think I'd be much fun right now, luv."

Her eyes and smile widened. "Oh, you're English!" She moved closer, pushing her breasts against his arm. "My name's Cassandra by the way."

He gave a nod. Took another drink. "Cal."

"I bet I could make you feel better." She gave him an appraising look, blinking her deep green eyes. "Maybe we could have our own private little party." Cassandra reached over and rested her hand on his thigh.

For once, he just wanted the little tart to go away. "Not looking to buy tonight darlin'." He stared at her, allowing his general mood to overtake his features.

She pulled away, looking uneasy. Without another word, she slipped away, but not before casting another look at him over her shoulder.

"I have to say that I'm impressed. That was quite out of character for you."

Cal startled at Gillian's voice. He looked up at her, eyes immediately drawn to the marks on her throat. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling the bite of shame and guilt once again.

"She's still watching you. Seems to be pouting."

He glanced over and, sure enough the girl still had her eyes on him. She now looked a little pissed. "Yeah, well." He downed his current drink.

Gillian watched him carefully, seeing his shame. She knew that he wasn't responsible for his actions, but the whole incident had thrown them both into turmoil. She'd be lying if she said that she wasn't still a bit fearful but her instincts told her that whatever _it_ was, it was indeed gone. Her heart now ached with his misery, but she wasn't really sure how to help him. He was always hardest on himself.

"Have you eaten?"

Cal shook his head, still not looking at her.

"How about some of this Creole food that you were taunting me with? What kind of desserts do they offer?"

He chuckled, despite himself and finally met her gaze. His hazel eyes were fatigued but held a warmth only reserved for two people in his life. "I guess I owe you, yeah?"

**(BREAK)**

"How did Devereux know that something wasn't right with me? I mean, when _it _took over, it seemed to happen… very quickly." Cal took a bite of his jambalaya, realizing how hungry he was.

"He said that when the girl clawed you, something, other than the obvious, bothered him about it. Apparently, he did a little research and found that these -" Gillian cleared her throat, still finding the situation beyond surreal, " - spirits could sometimes jump into another body when blood is spilled. I think the fact that he came to your room when he did was just good timing."

"Huh," his face twisted. "So, the girl is back to normal now?"

She nodded. "Last that I heard. Seems that she's staying overnight for observation. I think the medical staff wrote it off as a seizure." Gill took a sip of her wine.

"Is that what it looked like to you?" Cal asked softly.

Gill frowned. "Not really."

He was quiet for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Tomorrow we need to go talk to that girl again. Should be able to get a better read on her now. I'd really like to flush out this bastard. Gotten a bit personal, don't you think?"

"Just a bit."

Cal watched as she nibbled on her lower lip, eyes distant. His eyes traced the speckling of freckles beginning to peek out from under her base, always wondering why she felt she needed make up. Wondering if she was aware how much she meant to him. Wondering if she'd ever trust him again.

She was suddenly aware of his scrutiny and met his eyes, blushing slightly. He gave a rueful smile, not looking away. "How 'bout some Bananas Foster, Foster?"

_**(BREAK)**_

"You know that I forgive you don't you?"

He had walked her to her room in silence, both contemplating events in their own way. Gillian had unlocked her door with her cardkey and now faced him, her voice and expression sincere.

Cal still appeared troubled, especially since they were now alone. Despite assurances, that suffocating veil still stood out in his mind. The horror of it clinging to him like an oily film.

She placed her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Cal. I know that you would never intentionally hurt me." Her voice was firm, but gentle.

"Never." He responded roughly, accent thick as he met her eyes. His own widened at what she allowed him to read. _Tenderness, forgiveness and…love. _

She released his face and clasped her arms behind his neck, rocking with him slowly. After only a moment's hesitation, he followed suit, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tightly against him. They swayed contentedly in one another's arms for several long, sweet moments, temporarily forgetting everything.

Cal pushed his face into her hair, breathing in her wonderful scent before planting a sensual kiss below her left ear. Without thinking, he followed with several kisses from her ear to her clavicle. It just felt so good. So right.

Gillian froze as she felt his stubble brush along her neck followed by the soft feeling of his lips on some of her sweet spots. Her whole body tingled as if shocked. She pulled away quickly.

"I'm sorry Gill. I'm so sorry." He was flustered, almost panicked. "I shouldn't have –" His voice trailed off and his breath caught. Her eyes had darkened to a midnight blue, they were wide, startled and filled with desire.

Cal cocked his head to the side and slowly brushed her hair behind one ear with his fingertips. His eyes locked with hers, his own desire surging within him, barely contained.

_Oh God_. A tidal wave of emotion began to wash over her. _This shouldn't be happening._ This was Cal. Her best friend. She had no right to feel this way.

His expression told her differently as he continued to play with her hair, his eyes never leaving hers. He _loved_ her. She felt his hands tremble slightly as he struggled to restrain himself.

Time and place slowly vanished around them. She took his hand and led him out of the hallway. The door had barely closed behind them before their lips came together tumultuously. Tongues jousted and teased as they moved even closer. Her fingers laced firmly in the hair at the back of his head as he wrapped his arms around her slender waist, crushing her to him. Heat swept through them as he moved his frenzied kisses down her face and neck. His hands began to pull her blouse from the confines of her slacks to explore the soft skin of her belly and back. He found her lips again, breaking away briefly. His breath was harsh and rasping in her ear as he whispered, "Are you sure, Gillian?"

"I love you Cal." Her voice was a soft realization. To both of them.

She passionately kissed him again, her hands pushing his jacket off and returning to deftly unbutton his shirt after the pesky outer garment was gone. The dress shirt was quickly tossed aside as she explored his lean chest with her hands and warm mouth. She caught one nipple playfully in her teeth, causing him to gasp in surprise, before working her way back up to alternately nibble and suck on his throat, enjoying the feel of his stubble against her lips. She felt and heard him moan deeply within his chest as he once again pulled her close, covering her mouth with his. She could feel his arousal through the fabric of their clothing and felt herself flush in anticipation. Without further ado, he flashed her a roguish grin that managed to complement the deep love and desire in his eyes before swooping her up into his arms and carrying her to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, this is a really short chapter but I wanted to get it out there anyway. Hope it doesn't annoy you too much! ;-)**

Cal awoke with a sense of foreboding. He didn't open his eyes right away, but he could feel that the space where Gillian's body had been nestled against him in the night was now vacant. He felt strangely hollow without her there, almost like a part of him was missing. So much had come to the surface last night but did she regret it all now? Would she chalk it all off to the passion of the moment? Or to the dangerous situation they found themselves in since arriving to New Orleans? His heart sank at that possibility.

With a sigh, he rolled onto his back and cracked his eyes open, taking a quick survey of the room. Breath gushed between his lips with a whoosh of relief when he saw the light under the bathroom door. At least she hadn't run from him. Not yet.

Finding his jeans and boxers puddled on the floor, he pulled them on quickly and went to find his phone.

Devereux answered on the second ring. "Dr. Lightman? How are you feeling this morning?"

Ignoring the sudden odd prickling sensation on the back of his neck, he chose not to answer the question. "Eh detective, Foster and I would like to question the girl again this morning. Do you know if she's been discharged?"

"Probably will be later this morning. She'll be released to CPS for the time being. She has an aunt up in Shreveport, but we're still waiting to hear back from her."

"Let me know ASAP mate. I think we should be able to get a bit more info outta her now. Come to think of it, may not be a bad idea to talk to the aunt too."

He heard the door to the bathroom open and cast a quick glance at Gillian's silhouette. Since he hadn't bothered to pull the drapes open, her face was hidden in the shadows of the room. He wasn't able to look for the regret he feared would be there. Cal gave her a gentle smile before mouthing "DEVEREUX", indicating the phone. She moved toward him as he turned his attention back to the phone.

"My thoughts as well, doctor. We _have_ spoken to neighbors and the general consensus is that the girl's father was, shall we say, not an asset to society. Hospital also reported unusual bruising, which is, of course, consistent with abuse."

Cal pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "Yeah, _that _much I got from her the other day. She was definitely scared of him." He gritted his teeth in anger. "She was so desperate to get rid of him that she wound up with something else just as bad."

There was silence for just a moment. "So it seems doctor. So it seems." The man cleared his throat, deep voice smooth once again. "I will contact you shortly." "Thanks, mate."

He disconnected and turned to Gillian, bracing himself for what he feared he would find. It wasn't anything like he expected. Cal snapped his head back but not quickly enough to avoid the blow. Pain exploded above his left ear as he tumbled off the side of bed, and crashed into the closet door. He tried to push himself up but weakly slumped to the floor instead, feeling like he'd been kicked in the head by a horse. Through blurred vision, he watched her feet approach and stop right near him. He expected another blow but darkness claimed him before he could feel anything more.

**(BREAK)**

Gillian stared down at him with panicked eyes. He was still, blood seeping from his head wound. _Oh my God, she had killed him_. _No, no, no_! The lamp fell from her grasp as tears streamed down her cheeks. How could this be happening? Of course she knew and she was completely helpless to do anything about it.

She finished dressing, grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Almost as an afterthought, she searched her bag for sunglasses before looping them over her ears to hide her terrified eyes. Tears ran out from underneath regardless. _Please_ _Cal…._


	5. Chapter 5

Cal came to, biting back a moan. Despite the wretched pain in his head, he remained still, trying to gauge if the danger had passed or was still imminent. After several long minutes of complete silence, he decided he was alone. Gillian, and the _thing _controlling her were gone. _Gone_. Fear and panic settled into his belly.

Ever so slowly, he inched his way into a sitting position, groaning as the world tilted sickeningly. "Fuck." He squeezed his eyes shut again, breathing heavily, feeling nauseas.

Somewhere to his right, he heard the trilling of his phone. It cut through his aching head cruelly. Grimacing, he opened his eyes to slits to locate it. Just a couple feet away on the carpet. Right next to the weaponized lamp. He slid over, dark spots peppering his vision. Cal blinked them away impatiently as his hand curled around the phone. "Yeah?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Devereux's tone was of immediate concern. "Dr. Lightman? Is there something wrong?"

"You could say that." Cal raised a shaking hand to his head, noticing for the first time that it came away smeared with blood. The stickiness coated the side of his head and along his jaw line. He blinked at it slowly, feeling thick. "Gillian's gone. We need to find her."

"What do you mean, gone?" The detective asked slowly.

Panic began to tinge Cal's voice, temporarily pushing aside the murkiness in his head. "_It's… in… her."_

"Are you sure? What exactly happened?"

"Uh, well, yeah." His voice started to trail away slightly. "As pissed as she's been at me in the past, she's never hit me with a lamp before…"

"Hang on Dr. Lightman. I'm on my way." With that, he was gone.

Cal stared at the phone in his hand, dimly wondering if he should contact anyone else. Who _would_ he contact? Who would actually believe what was going on? At that moment, it rang again. He cringed, answering quickly just to stop the grating sound. "Lightman."

"Hello, Dr. Lightman. You sound a bit under the weather."

"Who is this?" Cal frowned, feeling that odd prickling sensation on the back of his neck.

"Good thing your young lady thinks you're dead."

Cal's breath caught. "What?"

"If she didn't, you really _would_ be dead right now."

He sat up quickly, ignoring the knife like pain in his head. "What do you want?"

"What most of us want. To be left alone. My dealings with and his subsequent death are not your concern."

"What about his daughter?" Cal could hear his voice rising. Dark spots started to play within his field of vision again. "What about my partner?" The second question came out in a growl.

But the disembodied voice had vanished.

He allowed the phone to slip out of his fingers.

**(BREAK)**

Devereux arrived with paramedics on his heels.

Cal still sat on the carpet, back against the closet door. His head throbbed painfully, but the threatening darkness seemed to be at bay. He looked up at the detective's approach. "I need to talk to the girl."

Deep anger and blatant fear shown brightly in Lightman's eyes. "Now."

"You need to go to the hospital." Devereux's voice was firm.

With gloved hands, one of the EMTs squatted next to him to inspect his head wound. He let out a quiet hiss as the fingers lightly probed. She moved on to take his vitals and used her penlight to check his pupil dilation. "Sir, you probably have a concussion at the very least. We really need to get you in."

Cal ignored the woman, continued to look at the detective who had kneeled down in front of him. "_He_ called me."

The big man frowned, confused. "Why would he do that?"

"Almost like he was taunting me." He recounted the short conversation. " That's why I need to talk to the girl. She's our only link." Cal pushed against the closet door to propel himself to his feet. Swayed drunkenly for a moment. The paramedic caught one arm. "Sir - "

"I understand Dr. Lightman, but hospital first. You can't help Dr. Foster if you don't get yourself taken care of." Devereux was adamant.

After a moment, Cal nodded. "Fine." He peered at the paramedic still holding onto his arm. "But no gurney." She opened her mouth to protest, but seeing the look on his face, she chose to drop it.

**(BREAK)**

Ignoring the standard 24-hour hold for a concussion, Cal checked himself out of the hospital and hailed a cab. After convincing Devereux that he was, more or less, okay, a meeting with Julia LaRue was arranged for late afternoon. There was no way he wouldn't be there, but he wanted to take a little side trip first.

The driver didn't even blink when Cal told him his destination. It was something of a tourist attraction.

"Stay here, will ya?"

He received an uninterested shrug from the driver. "Sure. Your money."

Cal pushed through the gate and walked into the Saint Louis Cemetery. Rows and rows of above ground crypts met his searching gaze. A virtual city of the dead.

He was looking for one specific gravesite. Mild surprise flickered through him when he found it. Somehow, he was expecting something more…. grandiose. The crypt before him was simple, white and adorned with candles, flowers and what appeared to be graffiti. Maybe not graffiti. He noted a series of triple X's repeated over and over. Puzzled, he wondered the significance. It had to mean something. This was Marie Laveau's tomb, after all.

How many times had the little LaRue girl come here? How many times did she drop to her knees and beg this long dead woman to remove her from her situation? A deep sense of sadness for the girl settled in. Perfect accompaniment to all the other emotions swirling around in him. He let out a sigh.

"What are you going to offer the priestess?" A voice asked from behind him.

Cal turned to stare at the woman standing just beyond his right shoulder. "Sorry?"

She was older, although he'd be hard pressed to pick out a specific age. Her accent sounded Haitian and her smile was genuine.

"Usually people come to ask for help."

"So I hear."

"Not you though."

He gave a small shrug. "Not exactly. What's the significance of the X's anyway?"

"Ahhh, the X's." She studied him while he blatantly observed her. She nodded, as if deciding something to herself. "People make requests, or wishes and they believe that the Priestess will grant them if they mark her resting place."

"Huh. You'd think that it would bloody well piss her off instead."

The woman gave a low chuckle before turning a serious eye toward him. "Are you looking for something yourself?"

He ran his eyes over her face, carefully reading, carefully judging. No telltale signs of deception that he could ascertain. Of course he wasn't completely on his game either. "Who are you? Are you an, uh, practitioner of…"

"Voodoo?"

"Yeah, that."

She smiled again, like he was the most amusing thing she'd seen in a while. "I am Marie Tousseau and yes, I am one of those."

Realization began to flow through him. "Don't take this the wrong way, but is it common for people in…your profession… to occasionally help those that come to this crypt?" Cal felt himself step a lot more carefully than he normally would. He couldn't risk scaring her off. This woman may turn out to be a treasure trove of badly needed answers.

A hint of anger registered in her eyes but as she observed him, it became apparent that he really didn't mean to allude to anything. "It does happen."

"How long have you been a practitioner?"

"A very long time." She tilted her head, giving him a knowing smile. "How old do I look?"

He was immediately uncomfortable with her question. Most women he knew could be a bit sensitive when it came to age.

Marie Tousseau looked at him expectantly. Waiting.

"Uh, sixties?" He felt himself cringe slightly.

"I am 82."

Cal blinked, honestly surprised.

"Now, I'd like to know _your_ name. I could be wrong, but I believe that you have a lot more questions for me."


	6. Chapter 6

Gillian opened her eyes with no knowledge of where she was or how she got there. The last thing she remembered was leaving the hotel room. Realization flooded through her as preceding events rushed to the surface. Fear and horror quickly brought her to a sitting position with a scream threatening to erupt from her. She pushed it back with some difficulty, breath coming in shaky gasps.

_She had killed him_. She had approached him while he was on the phone. Cal had acknowledged her with a smile before ending the conversation and shifting toward her, his expression warm and a little tentative. There had been time for her to register warmth melt into shock and surprise before she slammed the lamp into the side of his head. He went down, tried to rise, but then was still. The contact had felt so solid. It didn't seem likely that he would have survived.

The gasps turned into huge silent sobs. She allowed herself to use her grief like a cocoon to burrow down and away from everything. Gillian pulled her legs up onto the narrow cot and wrapped her arms around them in a child-like attempt to become smaller and disappear. _This can't be happening_.

**(BREAK)**

Cal dismissed the cab and accompanied Marie Tousseau back to her home. Being suspicious by nature, he couldn't help but wonder if this was such a good idea but given the insanity that he'd found himself immersed in, he felt his choices were limited. The thought of Gillian made his insides clench painfully, almost to the point of him not wanting to function, but he had to keep it together. That was the only way he was going to find her.

Madame Tousseau lived in an old shotgun style bungalow a short walk from the cemetery. It was warm and comfortable and not what he expected. Of course he wasn't really sure what he expected. An altar? A caldron? Chickens for sacrificing? Actually, there _were_ chickens in the yard. Cal tried not to think about that too much.

He was seated at the table in the eat-in kitchen while the woman made tea for them. Trying not to be too obvious, he watched her carefully, lest she slip something in his drink. The fact that this case was making him paranoid was becoming more and more readily apparent.

"Okay, Dr. Lightman, what can I do for you?" She set his tea in front of him and sat down opposite him with her own.

Cal leaned forward, not feeling that he had the luxury of beating around the bush. "What do you know about black magic?"

Ms. Tousseau sucked in her breath and narrowed her eyes. She regarded him carefully. "That's not how I do business." Her voice was cold.

She was telling the truth, but there was a little something in her expression that made him think that she could still help him.

"I think you may have misunderstood. I'm not looking to cast any spells for revenge or….whatever." He paused for just a second, wondering about compromising the integrity of the case before deciding, screw it. "My partner and I were brought in to consult on a case with the NOPD. Since we arrived, we've each tried to kill one another and now she's missing. My police contact suspects it to be the work of a _Bokor_." The words came out in true Cal cliff notes fashion. His voice then softened to an inadvertent plea. "I _have_ to find her."

Her mouth sagged slightly, eyes wide. Gave a slight headshake. "You're not….are you serious?"

He didn't even have to answer her. His usually guarded expressions were open for her perusal. "You have experience with this kind of situation." It wasn't a question.

She gave a little sigh, looking understandably troubled. "I do."

"Can you help me?" Cal's voice had dropped to a whisper.

The old woman's sharp eyes took him in. His rumpled clothes, unshaven face, tactlessness, suspicion, fear, exhaustion, obvious love for his partner all coupled with the heart of a lion. A good man hidden by many carefully arranged layers. She made her decision and stared directly into his apprehensive eyes. "You need to tell me the rest."

**(BREAK)**

Once again, Cal sat before Julia LaRue.

She was still fearful but a wall had started to build. She avoided his eyes.

"Okay darlin'." He leaned forward and cocked his head to the side, peering into her face. "We really need you to tell us what you know, yeah? I can appreciate that you're scared, but know what? So, I am. Since we got here, I've had the damndest things happen and to be honest, I really don't know what to think. In fact, that thing that was hanging out in you took me for a test drive. Didn't appreciate that. _I know you_ _know what I'm talking about_. But something's happened that's raised the stakes even more so for me."

She managed a quick glance up at him. He caught her eye and gave her a long level look.

" See, my _partner_ is now missing and she means a hell of a lot to me. Not only am I scared for her but I'm also really pissed off. Unfortunately, I'm a bit outta my element here. I think though, with your help we can make it right."

The girl seemed startled, but just for a moment. "How do you figure?" A touch of teenage sarcasm. A tiny bit of anger. Cal was glad to hear it.

"There." He pointed it out with a sideways smile.

"What?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Want to get back at him?"

Julia stared back at him. "I don't….I mean, how?" The teenage mask slipped just a tiny bit to reveal the little girl again.

"Did you meet him in the cemetery?"

"Yes."

"What did you exactly ask of him?"

She didn't answer, fear flared once more.

"Okay, you feel you're going to incriminate yourself."

Silence.

Cal's voice became gentle. "Wanting to get out of a bad situation is not a crime, luv. This man took advantage of you. I'm guessing he already had a bone to pick with your old man and you inadvertently gave him a direct line."

"I'm not sorry he's dead."

"I have no doubt about that. Can't say I blame you. Had similar feelings about my own dad."

Her eyes began to fill but she didn't allow the tears to fall.

"Do you know where we can find this man?"

"I'm scared."

"I know luv. He's counting on that to keep you silent. But we've got someone on our side now who I think might even the odds."


	7. Chapter 7

**Just wanted to get this out there. Trying to start bringing things together. Hopefully no one's bored! **

Julia looked up at him, confusion knotting her features.

"Ah, that got your attention."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

Cal tilted his head to the side, a bitter smile playing across his lips. "You think your _friend_ is the only one in this town with some, uh, unusual powers?"

She blinked at him; hope lighting her eyes for the very first time.

"What if I told you, we _really_ could protect you? Would you be willing to help us?" He turned to the mirror and gave a little nod.

A moment later, Marie Tousseau came in followed by the towering form of Louie Devereux. Although the big man's expression was carefully neutral when he caught Lightman's eye, Cal could still detect underlying fear. They were wading into unexplored water here and neither one could fathom any kind of guess as to how it would turn out. They both knew that they were putting a remarkable amount of faith into this one very tiny old woman and could only hope their faith was not misguided.

The detective brought her a chair and the woman immediately sat close to the girl, taking her hand. "Hello Julia, I am Madame Tousseau."

Nodding, the girl only stared. She did nothing to remove her hand from the old woman's grasp.

"Dr. Lightman informs me that you got yourself into a bit of a situation." Her voice was low, filled with warmth and compassion. "Do you think you could tell me about it?"

A sob erupted from the girl. "I don't know if I can!"

"You can sweetie and you will." Firm, but not unkind. "Tell me everything and you can free yourself and help save an innocent woman."

**(BREAK)**

Despite a persistent hazy feeling, Gillian was still in control of her body.

Knowing that there was nothing she could do for Cal, she began to slip into survival mode, pacing the small room, looking for anything she could use to free herself.

Looking about her, she could see nothing that could lend itself to escape. The door was held by a deadbolt on the opposite side. There was an old metal cot, a small light fixture anchored to the wall, and an adjoining half bathroom, seemingly converted from a closet. Her purse was gone as well, and with it, her mace.

The small window above the cot provided a view of nothing but swampland. She'd be willing to take her chances out there, but even as slender as she was, there was no way she could wriggle through that tiny window.

There had been intermittent noise from the other living areas in the house but her host had not, as yet, graced her with his presence. She knew that she was only a tool and this realization gnawed at her constantly, seeding a hatred and rage that was totally unlike her. She had been _used _to murder Cal, and that raw nerve pulsed through every fiber of her being. Gillian couldn't allow grief to enter the equation. It would only make her weak.

She began moving around the room with more meaning, using her weight to push against the floorboards, feeling and listening for any loose ones that she could pull up and use as a weapon. Pushing the cot aside, she did the same in that small space. Nothing.

Pausing, she tilted her head to the side to listen. The rest of the house was momentarily quiet. Taking a breath, she leaned over and picked up the cot, gently resting it on its side so she could inspect the legs. Sure enough, several screws and nuts held them all on. Systematically, she began attempting to loosen the nuts, but the years seemed to have fused them together. It wasn't long before the hardware was slick with blood from her fingers. None of them had budged. Blinking back tears of frustration and pain, she used the edge of the sheet to wrap around her hand and tried again. After what seemed like hours, she was finally able to loosen the nuts. Her hands stung and throbbed painfully but she held the leg, judging the heft. _With any luck, she should be able to do some damage with it._

Gillian positioned herself behind the door and sank down against the wall. Not much she could do now but wait.

**(BREAK)**

Cal had known that he hadn't wanted to contemplate the chickens in her yard. As much as he enjoyed being right, he would have preferred the alternative in this case, because, sure enough, Madame Tousseau had fashioned a talisman out of a chicken foot for him. Since he had recently been a vessel for one of the Bokor's enslaved spirits, she considered him the most vulnerable. A protection spell was also being cast, but the talisman was a kind of extra insurance. She wanted him to wear it on a cord around his neck, but the best he could do was put it in his pocket. He remembered how the old woman had narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing. Julia LaRue had also received a talisman, but hers came in the form of an amulet since she of course wouldn't be involved in the arrest. From what he could ascertain, the choice of talisman had something to do with strength and proximity to the Bokor. Nonetheless, he would have preferred an amulet.

"_Did they find any poison?" Madame Tousseau looked up at him._

_ "Sorry?"_

_ "Was there any poison found in the man's system?"_

_ "I think they're still waiting for the report, but he'd been bitten numerous times by some kind of snake."_

_ She smiled. "I doubt it."_

His mind had wandered, tension curling him up like a spring. He almost jumped out of his skin when Detective Devereux placed a hand on his shoulder. "Almost ready doctor?"

Cal nodded, feeling nauseas with fear and worry for Gillian. What if they're too late? What if the old lady couldn't pull it off? The thought of living on without her sent a dark searing agony though his chest, causing his breath to catch in his throat. He paused, closing his eyes to gather himself. A moment later, on numb legs, he followed the cop to his unmarked car.


	8. Chapter 8

**Another short chapter. Bear with me. Hope it'll all be worth it!**

Exhaustion had almost pulled her down into its depths when she heard the door. Fear quickly pushed fatigue to the outermost perimeter and she quietly got to her feet.

Light from the hallway cast the long shadow of a figure into the little room. He did not move forward. "Dr. Foster. I expect you are waiting for me. I am sorry to disappoint you." With that, the door was given a powerful push inward, slamming into Gillian. She gasped in surprise and pain as the knob grazed her left side, bruising her ribs. The door retracted before slamming into her once again, knocking the breath out of her. Dazed, she started to slide down the wall before catching herself. _No_. _She refused to make herself more vulnerable_. She tried to catch her breath while using the wall for support. She'd managed to hold onto the cot's leg despite the battering she had just received, almost like it was a lifeline. It lay flush with her right leg as she waiting for an opportunity. Slowly, Gillian moved out from behind the door.

A moment later, she was face to face with the _Bokor.._.

**(BREAK)**

The city outside the window slowly disappeared, being replaced by more and more greenery. They were heading toward the swamps.

Julia LaRue hadn't been able to give them a definitive address but her rudimentary directions were enough to ring a bell with Devereux.

They traveled interstate 10 before merging onto the 90, but once they left the main highway, it all became a blur. Everything looked the same to Cal. The detective drove with purpose, almost eerily so. He said very little.

_"What makes you think that they won't find any poison?" Cal had asked._

_"You know as well as I do how powerful the human brain can be. It can also be equally powerful within its delusions." The old woman stared up at him._

_ "The power of suggestion."_

_ "Exactly."_

_ "So…terror of snakes with a bit of hallucinogen thrown into the mix…"_

_ "Among other things. Not a lot more terrifying than having voices in your head whispering to you."_

_ "Unless you have something inside you controlling your actions."_

_ Madame Tousseau nodded, attempting to hide her sympathy. Didn't quite succeed but Cal appreciated the sentiment. "Of course."_

"You seem to know exactly where you're going Detective." Cal swung his head toward the driver. His sunglasses hid the intensity of his look. "Care to share?"

Devereux grunted. Muscles bunched in his jaw. There was an extra level of discomfort now.

"Seriously?"

The big man startled, glanced at him. "What?"

"We're going to your hometown are we?"

With a small headshake he stared straight through the windshield once again. "You do know that that's creepy Dr. Lightman."

"Yeah, I know."

**(BREAK)**

The bogeyman is never what you expect. He often approaches from behind a very human face. One that you may not look at twice or if you do, it could even be in admiration. Could be handsome. Could be likable. Could be anyone. Gillian was reminded of a book she read a few years ago: "The Sociopath Next Door."

Bright green eyes looked out at her from a mocha colored face. Average height, average built. Possibly in his late 50's. Could easily have been someone's father – could easily have walked his daughter down the aisle to present her to her husband. Maybe he was expecting his first grandchild. Maybe he was looking forward to retirement so he could spend all his days fishing. Maybe that would be something that would either annoy his wife or delight her.

All these random thoughts passed through Gillian's head without pause.

It didn't stop her from trying to bash his head in with the cot leg though.

With bared teeth and as much power as she could muster, she lunged at him.

He was ready though. He caught her wrist and twisted it painfully. With a cry, her fingers loosened, dropping the leg to the floor. His expression was almost one of disappointment as he tightened his grip, almost bringing her to her knees.

Eyes watering, she drove her shoe into his instep.

It had the desired affect. With a grunt of pain, the fingers around her wrist loosened. She pulled free and attempted to dart around him but he recovered too quickly.

A strong hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back into the room. The other hand curled into a fist and drove it into her stomach.

He let go when she fell to her knees gasping.

"Are you done?"

Gillian continued to bare her teeth. "Fuck you."

"You're very spirited. I can respect that, but it doesn't help you."

Reaching down, he grabbed her by the hair once more, before delivering a blow to her left temple.

She crumpled to the floor, stunned. Darkness floated in the periphery.

The man crouched before her slowly shaking his head. Sympathy creased his features.

Gillian closed her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

She could feel that she was being moved but didn't have the strength or inclination to open her eyes. It was probably better to let him believe that she was still unconscious. Needed to think, but it was so damned hard. Her body ached miserably and she was mentally exhausted from all the fear, anger, and sorrow that pulsed throughout her. _Cal was dead_. Gillian was trying to push that from her mind, worried that it would cripple her to the point of an inward collapse. She couldn't let that happen. _He wouldn't have wanted that._

The _Bokor _dropped her onto the couch and she could hear his footsteps retreat.

She opened her eyes to a narrow crack and surveyed her surroundings through thick eyelashes. A small front parlor, old furniture, shelves crammed with books and items that she really didn't want to get too close a look at. And the front door was a mere 5 or 6 yards to her right. Instinctively she knew that it wouldn't be that easy but her options were starting to run out.

Wincing, she shifted herself to a sitting position. That was as far as she got.

The veil dropped and she could move no more. Familiar terror clenched at her insides once again.

"Dr. Foster." His voice was still smooth but there was something else there. Fear and anxiety. Maybe he could hide it from others, but not from her. Gillian felt a tiny flash of hope, but just for a second.

He stepped into her line of sight. Within his left hand, he held a wickedly sharp hunting knife. Gillian's eyes widened, a coldness sweeping through her.

The man squatted in front of her. "I _am_ sorry that you and your partner became involved in this. It is very unfortunate." His eyes held a tinge of regret but most notably, they were filled with a strong sense of self-preservation and the same fear and anxiety she noted in his voice. She dimly wondered what had happened that would elicit this response.

"That old cot leg isn't going to do. You need a better weapon than that." He winked at her and he took her hand and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the knife. "There. Much better."

**(BREAK)**

Cal was hopelessly lost.

Devereux, however, was not. "I think we're going to hike in from here." He climbed out of the unmarked and Cal followed suit. Two other patrol cars parked behind them, uniforms spilling out onto the dirt road.

The humidity closed in around them, as did the swamp. Cal could smell it and wrinkled his nose in distaste. Generally, he could appreciate that it held a distinctive beauty but now it just smelled like death. He shuddered, despite the heat.

"Are you okay, Dr. Lightman?" The detective looked down at him.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved a dismissive hand and let his face fall into his carefully arranged mask.

"You stay with me no matter what. Understood?"

" 'Course." He gave a nod but the cop didn't look convinced. "What?"

Devereux studied him and sighed. "You'll forgive me if I don't completely trust you. I think your judgment may be a little off concerning Dr. Foster."

"I would never do anything to endanger her." Cal gave him a steely look.

"That, I believe. But what about yourself?"

He chose not to answer. It would all depend on the situation. Gillian was his priority. "How will we know if Madame Tousseau was able to take care of…uh…things?"

The big man shrugged. "I trust her." His voice left no room for debate and Cal was impressed. Interesting enough, he had trust in the old woman too. He just hoped that it wasn't misplaced.

The group spread out and approached the little swamp shack that stood at the very end of the road.

**(BREAK)**

"Oh, I can see how much you want to use that on me." The voice had lowered to a sultry whisper. "However, I can assure you that that won't happen."

He pulled away but not before she caught another flash of unease.

If only she were strong enough to break this hold. Tears welled within her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

"You seem to be a very determined lady and quite lovely. It would have been nice to know you under different circumstances."

She narrowed her eyes at him but that was the only reaction she could give.

"I am going to have to leave you now. Please send my regards to your police friends." He smiled and left her field of vision.

Police friends?

She got to her feet.

**(BREAK)**

Devereux pounded on the door. "Police!"

Cal felt that same prickling at the back of his neck. It was almost a calling card at this point. They were close.

No answer from within.

The big detective pounded again before pulling back. Gun drawn, he turned the knob, easing the door open. "HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!"

A solitary figure stood in the middle of the room. Sunlight from the windows glinted off the large knife held in the right hand.

"PUT IT DOWN!"

The figure moved toward the detective, knife raising.

Cal slipped in from behind Devereux, freezing when he saw Gillian. But only for a moment. He dodged in front, placing himself between the policeman's gun and Gillian's knife. He sure as hell hoped that the damned chicken foot and all his protection spells worked. They prospect of being shot or stabbed did not particularly appeal to him. "WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!"

"LIGHTMAN, GET DOWN!"

"Are you bloody well outta your mind?" Cal snapped at the detective, turning to face Gillian. "Hey luv." He greeted her cautiously, voice soft.

Her face didn't change but the brightness of her eyes overflowed as tears of relief ran down her face.

She kept approaching, knife still clenched in her hand.

"Oh shit." Cal mumbled under his breath. He took a step closer anyway, hands up, fingers splayed.

Gillian stopped and the position of the knife slowly changed.

"If that old lady's spell is gonna work – this would be a very good time!" Cal felt himself shouting as the knife approached Gillian's throat.

Her eyes widened even more as the hunting knife made contact.

Cal read pain as a thin line of blood appeared by her artery. Panic welled within him but he dared not move.

_Please! Enough already! _


	10. Chapter 10

**Wanted to thank everyone for their encouragement. I really appreciate it! I hope y'all are enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it. A quick warning about this part though – some of the description is a tiny bit graphic. Just sayin'.**

The screaming started when the knife slipped from Gillian's grasp and she began to crumple to the floor.

Cal moved forward in a heartbeat and caught her as they sunk together. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, cradling her gently.

Eyes wide, Devereux turned and rushed from the open doorway, 3 of the 4 police officers falling behind. The screaming continued, seemingly from behind the house but the echoes of the swamp made it difficult to pinpoint.

But Cal didn't care. He was only faintly aware of the ghastly sound, he was more concerned about the woman in his arms. He looked her over carefully, pushing her hair back with his fingers, noting that the blood on her throat came from a very superficial cut – the blade hadn't had time to penetrate any deeper. An ugly bruise darkened her temple, lending a blackened look to her eye as well. Her hair was completely disheveled. And she was the most beautiful thing on the planet. He gazed down at her, tears threatening to overtake him.

Her eyes opened a moment later, panic and adrenaline pushing her to thrash in his arms.

He held her more tightly. "I gottcha darlin'. It's okay. I have ya."

As recognition flooded her eyes, great, wracking sobs shuddered through her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. "I thought you were dead!" Her voice came out in gasps.

Cal kissed the top of her head, pulling her even closer. "Nah, you know I'm too thick skulled, luv. Can't get rid of me that easily." He rocked her gently as she continued to cling to him.

"Sir?" The forth cop stood over them, seemed remiss to interrupt. "I've called an ambulance. Should be here shortly.

"Thanks."

The screaming had stopped. It had reached a blood-curdling crescendo and then was abruptly silenced. Cal blinked, registering it consciously for the first time. He squinted at the young cop standing over them. "Any idea…?  
>Clearly affected by what he had heard, the man, barely more than a boy really, met Cal's eyes. His own were frightened and unsure. "I…I'm not sure. Detective Devereux should be back shortly."<p>

An ambulance siren could be heard in the distance when the big cop came back through the door. Even in the dim light, Cal could see that the man was visibly pale beyond his dark countenance. His eyes swept over both of them before settling on Gillian. "How is she?"

Cal opened his mouth to speak, but Gillian answered first. Her voice was soft but not without underlying strength. "I'm fine detective. What happened to… ?"

"Dead." He looked at Lightman. "She came through for us."

"Hairy there for a bit."

"Yes it was."

Gillian looked back and forth between the two men. "What are you talking about?"

At that moment they heard the crunch of tires in the makeshift driveway as the ambulance arrived.

"I'll tell you everything on the way to hospital." Cal whispered to Gillian as he helped her to her feet. One strong arm went securely around her waist as she wavered slightly. She leaned against him but kept her chin up. "That's my girl," he murmured, brushing his lips against her cheek.

He helped her toward the ambulance before turning to one of the paramedics. "One minute, yeah?"

"Cal?"

"I'll be right back. I have to see." He looked at Gillian soberly, but she clutched his hand, not willing to let him go.

"Please. I need to know."

The second EMT wrapped a blanket around her shoulders as she stared at Cal. He didn't move until she reluctantly gave a small nod and released his hand.

He pressed his lips against her brow once again before leaving her to join Devereux.

(BREAK)

The detective was very grim as he steadily moved forward. Cal had to practically jog to keep up.

"Are you sure you want this Dr. Lightman?" Devereux stopped several yards away from a group of cops standing near the old boathouse at the edge of the water. At first glance, it was barely noticeable – the foliage had taken over, disguising the graying wooden planks. It was slowly dissolving into the swamp.

"Yeah. I need to see that this son of a bitch is dead."

"You know that the spirits attacked him right?"

Cal frowned. Madame Tousseau had explained to him that she planned on releasing the Bokor's imprisoned spirits. It didn't occur to him what the ramifications of that could possibly be.

"Given how they were able to control me, and then Gillian, I have no doubt that it's not going to be pretty. They were probably really pissed at him. Understandable and all that."

"I just want you to be prepared."

"Of course." He'd seen a lot of horrible things in his time but this whole case had introduced an unseen world into his life. It had already left its indelible mark on him. There was no going back.

The coroner had also arrived, but everyone parted to allow Detective Devereux and Cal through.

A figure lay on its back in the tall grass. The man looked as if he had mauled by an animal, but there were traces of blood and gore under the few fingernails that hadn't been torn away. The face had been mangled horribly, one eye missing, one eye green and staring. His ears were gone and his scalp was ripped open. The reason for his sudden quiet was readily apparent: he had gouged out his own throat. Cal stared, not hiding his contempt.

Without a word, he turned and walked back toward the house.

(BREAK)

Gillian was kept overnight for observation.

Cal stayed with her, pulling an uncomfortable chair close and sprawling out in it. He watched her as she slept, his left hand in her right one.

In the early morning hours, he awakened from a doze to find her whimpering in her sleep. Her face was terrified as she fought with her sheets. Sweat glistened on her face.

Without hesitation, he rose and crawled onto the bed with her. Lying on his side, he gathered her into his arms. Instinctively, she turned and nestled against his chest, sighing contentedly. Her breathing quieted. "I'm here, luv. I'm not goin' anywhere," he whispered to her sleeping form. The nightmares stayed away as he held his vigil.

(BREAK)

"We're gonna make a quick stop. There's someone you need to meet."

They were en route to the airport, but they had a few minutes.

He directed the cab driver and it wasn't long before they pulled up in front of Madame Tousseau's comfortable little house.

Cal looped an arm around Gillian's waist as they climbed the front steps.

The old woman opened the door before they could even knock. Her smile was warm. "Dr. Lightman." She shared her smile with Gillian as well. "You must be Dr. Foster."

"Yes. Very nice to meet you." She held out her hand and the older woman took it with both hands. Madame Tousseau looked up at her with keen eyes, weighing and judging. A true natural who had understandably avoided Cal's usual irritation. " You're strong, brave and very beautiful. It's quite apparent why he loves you so much."

Gillian flushed as Cal grinned at her. He shifted his gaze and took a step forward. "I just wanted to…uh…." His face twisted, trying to find the right words.'

"You are welcome Dr. Lightman."

"No, no, I can do this." He took the old woman's hand and looked down into her face. "Seriously. Thank you. We owe you our lives."

Madame Tousseau reached out and touched Cal's cheek, nodding. Her dark eyes probed his hazel ones and he allowed her to do so. She then turned to Gillian. "Take care of him. He does need you. Even if he pretends otherwise."

Ignoring Cal's startled look, she dismissed them both with a wave. "I have things to do, and I believe you both have a plane to catch. Be well."

**Not quite done here. Feel I have several loose ends to tie up. Just want to incorporate smoothly. What do you think?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay –"loose ends" being tied up now. Enjoy! ;-)**

"It was all about debt. Bleeding plonker hired this…witch doctor…to cast some nastiness to get him out from under gambling debts and then the moron screws him over. Bright bulb that one was." Cal finished his drink and looked over a Gill.

"Did Devereux say how LaRue really died?"

"Had a heart attack – essentially died of fright. The girl was used to slip a little somethin' into daddy's booze. Some kind of hallucinogen. Had a major snake phobia so he apparently thought he was being attacked but was actually self-mutilating." His voice drifted away slightly as other graphic images entered his head.

Cal felt a soft hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

They'd been back a little over a week now and were relaxing on his comfy old leather couch in the living room. It was the first opportunity they'd had. They'd both been very quiet on the trip back, each contemplating events in their own way and of course arrival home meant lots of paperwork and catch up on current cases. They'd barely had time to breath, let alone _talk_.

He turned his body toward her, face knotting slightly as he caught and held her eyes. "Yeah." His voice was quiet. "How'bout you?"

"I'm dealing. Just a lot to absorb." She finished her drink and placed the glass on the coffee table. There were too many thoughts and emotions crowding in her head for words. Her eyes moved away.

He poured himself more Scotch and replenished hers. Silence filled the room.

Making a decision, Cal put down his drink. He stole a sideways glance at her, clearing his throat. "You know that I'm not sorry."

Gillian looked up at him but didn't need to ask. A slow flush spread across her face.

Noting this, he reached over and gently stroked the side of her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. "It wasn't the danger or passion of the moment. You know that, yeah?"

She pushed her face further into his palm, placing one hand over his. Her eyes softened as she watched him. "I know Cal." Gillian's voice was just a whisper.

He edged closer. "No regrets?"

"None." She turned her head and planted a kiss in the palm of his hand.

His other hand came forward and threaded through her hair as he leaned forward and tenderly claimed her lips with his own. He was not in a hurry. He wanted to take his time and show her exactly how much she meant to him. If anything, preceding events had taught him that nothing should be taken for granted. Any given moment with her was precious and should not be wasted.

Soft lips opened to him as she reached one arm behind his neck and the other flattened against his chest. Tongues performed a slow dance, tasting brandy and one another's unique flavor.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers and looking deeply into her eyes. "I love you Gillian."

Her answer was such an electrically tinged kiss that his eyes widened in surprise. She moved to nibble on his ear, a breathy "I love you too" floating in the air near him. Her lips trailed down his throat as he closed his eyes, pulling her into his lap.

She ran her hands down his arms, loving the solid feel of him. He had such coiled power within him that she couldn't help but feel completely safe while in his embrace. His lips sought and claimed hers once again, the kiss becoming much deeper with passion, although still unhurried.

Dexterous fingers found the buttons of his shirt before pushing the garment off his shoulders and caressing his bare chest. She ran her nails lightly through the small patch of fine hair lining his sternum, feeling him tremble under her touch.

He began to trail warm kisses down her neck to her clavicle before finding the hem of her top, lifting it over her head and lightly tossing it aside. Cal continued the exploration of her neck and torso with his lips and tongue, hearing and feeling low moans vibrate though her.

At that moment, Gillian pushed away from him gently, moving off of his lap. She stood, holding a hand out to him.

Without pause, he was on his feet, clasping her hand in his and pulling her to him. He kissed her again as they heading upstairs.

Cal kicked the door shut behind them before once again turning his complete attention upon Gillian. He ran his fingers down her ribcage, smiling as goose bumps erupted on her perfect skin, before slowly unzipping her skirt and pushing it down and off of her hips and legs. Pausing, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slid them off as well. Placing a hand on his shoulder for balance, she stepped out of her clothing and he worked his way back up, kissing every part of her. There was a sudden intake of breath followed by a low moan when he was about half way up. He took a little extra time there before grinning up at her and moving on. A moment later, he was once again tenderly kissing her lips before expertly unhooking and removing her bra.

He stepped back then and just looked at her.

Gillian felt herself redden, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny. But as she stared up into his eyes, all her self-consciousness faded. His expression was filled with such warmth and love that tears threatened to overtake her. Her eyes brightened considerably.

"Nah, we can't have any of that." His voice was so soft, accent flowing. "You are just so beautiful." He touched her face, lazily making circles on her cheek with his thumb. "Never doubt that." Kissing her again, he felt her fingers move down toward the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning and releasing. She lightly brushed against him and it was his turn to gasp.

They worked their way toward the bed.

When he entered her, they moved as one. Their bodies were in perfect rhythm while making love. It wasn't just sex and they both knew it. It was so much more meaningful than anything they'd ever experienced before. They headed toward climax together, her tumbling first with him only seconds behind.

Cal trembled violently after the intensity of his release and she just held on, wrapping herself around him, hands smoothing his hair. She placed gentle kisses upon his cheek and jaw. "Are you okay?"

His body gradually stopped shaking and he opened his eyes. He quickly claimed her lips again before moving onto his side, fearful of crushing her. "Yeah, luv. I'm perfect."

"You sure were."

He snorted as she giggled. "There could be more where that came from."

"I'm counting on it."

"No regrets, darlin'?"

"None whatsoever."

**I figured they could use some lovin' after everything they went through. I was going for sweet hot without actual smut. Was I successful? Opinions always welcome! ;-P**


End file.
